


You're a Bottled Star

by disinfectedcats (alfred_meetjarvis)



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Rating May Change, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-27 03:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2676905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alfred_meetjarvis/pseuds/disinfectedcats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil is a lawyer that frequents Bilbo's cafe, Bag End. When the Sackville Baggins' take Bilbo to court in an attempt at the shop, Thranduil offers to represent him in court (for much cheaper than he usually charges, but Bilbo doesn't need to know that).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_December 1st, 2014_

“Ada? Are you home?” Thranduil looks up from his laptop at the sound of his son's voice and the slamming of the front door.

“In my office!” he calls, smiling when the door swings and his sons beaming face peers around the edge. “What do you want for dinner?”

“I was thinking Indian,” Legolas replies, swinging the door open wider and stepping in to perch on the edge of Thranduil's desk. “Or maybe Greek? A new place opened up a few blocks down and I hear they deliver.”

And so, as Greenwood family tradition dictated, Thranduil, Legolas, and Tauriel (who is home from Lothlórien University for winter break) order take-out curled up in a blanket nest in the den, laptop playing a movie as they lean together and talk.

“How's university?” Legolas asks, flopping over to nestle his head into her shoulder. She laughs, and brings her fingers up to scratch his scalp. The ringing of the doorbell interrupts Tauriel’s reply, and Thranduil climbs to his feet to saunter to the door, leaving his children to their “cuddle pile”, as his son’s boyfriend so aptly puts it. He pays, smiling easily at the intimated delivery-woman, and loads the food into his arms before striding back into the room, balancing the food in his arms. As Tauriel starts to stand, he briskly dismisses her offer of help with his eyebrows.

Legolas and Tauriel easily slide back into their conversation. “It's fun,” she murmurs as Thranduil sets down their food and settles back into the nest. “There's this guy in my archery class, he's really cute. I'm thinking about maybe asking him on a date after break?”

Thranduil smiles delightedly and leans forward, “What's his name? Anyone I know?” he teases. He levers noodles into his mouth and waits expectantly.

She laughs contentedly and reaches her free hand out to pat his head fondly. “His name is Kíli.” She finally says. She is silent for a moment more, before a mischievous grin overtakes her face. “And what about you? Do you still have a crush on that coffee guy – what's his name? Filbo or something?” She snaps her fingers and points. “No! Bilbo!”

Thranduil sputters, face reddening, while Legolas cackles. “I- I do not have a crush on him! Besides, I'm 10 years his senior! I'm too old for him!”

On Tauriel's other side, Legolas stops laughing to scoff, “What shit – it's not like he's 18 and you're 30! Besides, you look great for your age!” His voice softens, “He'd be lucky to have you, adar.”

Thranduil huffs out a frustrated breath, but can't help the small smile that escapes. “Well, it doesn't make a difference, because I don't have a crush on him.”

Tauriel and Legolas groan in union, and Thranduil can't contain his laughter.

They sit in companionable silence for the rest of the meal, pressed shoulder to shoulder now. They gather their trash companionably, taking the empty cartons to the trash and the leftovers to the refrigerator, before Thranduil and Legolas crawl back into the nest, with Tauriel out by the movies. They rotated who got to pick the movies every time, but always let Tau pick what she wanted to watch while she was home. They all had fairly similar tastes, having all grown up around classic films, but where Thran and Legolas ran more towards things like ‘Some Like It Hot’, and ‘Roman Holiday’, Tauriel was fondest of things along the lines of ‘Labyrinth’ and ‘Wizard of Oz’.

Tau sits contemplatively at the movie cupboard before stretching to gently wriggle a Blu-ray from its slot. She gets the film ready before crawling back and cocooning herself in her favorite blanket.

As she gets comfortable, the 20th Century Fox logo pops onto the screen, followed closely by the opening crawl of ‘The Empire Strikes Back’. They drift slowly into sleep, fighting to stay awake, warm and full.

 

~

 

One would think, since Thranduil literally got up at 4:30 every morning, he would have adjusted. You would think that, and you would be wrong. He stumbles through his home (almost falling down the stairs, thank god his kids weren't awake to see that), knocking his knees into the coffee table a few times, just to see if he was really alive, and hurriedly shoving toast in his mouth as he makes his way out the door. 

He is still metaphysically dead by the time he rolls into his car, and barely cognitively functioning halfway to Bag End. The only thing keeping him on his course was the thought of his morning coffee stop (he is adamant that he only does this because he cannot function without 1 (6) cup(s) of “Barista’s Choice”, but the real reason is that he had a crush on the barista, Bilbo). (Bilbo is perfection wrapped in a 5’ package (this is ridiculously tiny compared to Thranduil’s 6’3” self). Thran has literally been going to the same coffee shop for 2 years just because he may or may not be slightly obsessed with the barista with his cute face and superb coffee making skills.)

The steady green glow of the radio reads 5:33 when he zips into the empty parking lot, car tires spinning on ice. He carefully steps out his car, stumbling a little as he avoids the snow drifts’ His subsequent venture to Bag End's door is as devoid of grace as his entrance of her l magnitude  of windows with plants that curl invitingly at the bases, and lots of flower vines around the entire thing (at least, there were when it wasn't winter).

Thranduil pulls open the door and listens to the bell tinkle quietly. The cafe smells like coffee beans and peppermint, and there are fairy lights hung from the ceiling and on the walls. _ It looks beautiful, as always, _ Thranduil thinks to himself, a smile of admiration curving his lips.

“Hello, Thranduil! Good morning!” The cheerful voice of Bilbo Baggins, owner of Bag End Cafe and also “Thranduil's barista”, is loud over the soft music drifting through his shop, pulling his gaze from the lights hanging at the ceiling. “You're late! Traffic problems?”

Elbows planted on the bar, Bilbo smiles happily at Thranduil, and Thranduil cannot resist the smile that tugs at his own lips.

“Yes, the roads are extremely icy this morning,” Thranduil explains, removing his cap and twisting it between his fingers.

“Oh dear!” Bilbo exclaims. “Make sure you're extra careful, Thranduil! I'd hate to lose my favorite customer,” he asserts.

Laughing awkwardly, Thranduil's fingers travel up to nervously play with his braid.

“Coconut vanilla cappuccino, extra coconut?” Bilbo asks (or rather, states), fingers already beginning to fly over the espresso machine.

Thranduil walks quickly to the counter. “Yes, please, Master Baggins,” he answers, smiling down at him.

Bilbo laughs cheerfully. “None of that “master” business, Thranduil. Call me Bilbo. Please.”

Thranduil only smiles, unsure what to do with his face. He tugs back on his stocking cap, tugging on his braid once more.

“Here you are.” Bilbo hands him his coffee with a cheerful smile.

“Thank you, Master Baggins,” Thranduil bows his head in thanks, and hands Bilbo his credit card to swipe, their fingers brushing softly (so cliche, his mind screeches, but he nearly blushes anyway).

The second his card is back in his hand he’s nearly spinning on his feet towards. Thranduil flees while the hummingbird in his chest struggling to escape.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was updated 6/24/16


	2. Chapter 2

_December 2nd, 2014, 2:58 AM_

Bag End is a very peaceful place, in the early hours of the morning. Bilbo stands just inside the round, green door, weak lamp-light filtering in from where he had left it open. His hands rest on his hips and he surveys the dark shop with a content aura.

He begins a leisurely stroll through the cafe, flicking on the overhead lights before turning on Pandora and selecting Classical Relaxation Radio. Piano Sonata No. 14 in C Sharp Minor begins to pour softly through the surround-sound.

Bilbo gets to work inside, and the chill is slowly replaced with the warmth of preheating ovens. The smell of yeast rises, and soon after is joined by sweet brown sugar and spicy cinnamon. Quickly enough the heat has him sweating, but he doesn’t mind.

Through the windows facing to the south, Bilbo glances to the sky. _It’s nearly four,_ he notes. _Not much longer now; little more than an hour until opening, and the bread is still on its first rise!_ He hustles to the ovens, a mitt in one hand and a tray laden with raw dough in the other, and, pulling open the oven, replaces the baked cookies with the unbaked. The large room is filled with a myriad of sweetness, and Bilbo begins the arduous task of transporting the cooled sweets to the display case.

The display is partially full now, with squares of pound cake, cookie-brownie bars, various cupcakes, and cinnamon chip cookies (a seasonal alternative to chocolate chip, and his best selling good), and the like. Even the clam chowder and potato soup are nearly ready. He happily admires the fruit of his labor, before scurrying back to the kitchen to roll out cinnamon buns.

The door bell chimes as he is covering the cinnamon buns for their second rise, and he emerges to greet Samwise.

 

Bilbo and Sam work companionably side by side, one mixing a large batch of brownie batter, and the other, the beginnings of s’more cupcakes (Pippin’s specialty, but Bilbo’s were passing-fair). They had been baking together for so long (longer even than Sam had been working in Bag End) that moving together seemed second nature. They hum together the violin piece softly drifting from the ajar door.

 

~

 

_December 2nd, 2014, 5 AM_

 

 _It’s snowing quite heavily now,_ Bilbo frets, flipping the “closed” sign to “open”. _And it’s still very dark… I hope Mr. Thranduil will be okay. He’s been a patron for so long I feel like we’re friends._

He turns back towards the shop, and putters around, wiping down tables and dusting and straightening bookshelves. He moves with the music playing, and snorts when he recognizes a film score from ‘The Chronicles of Narnia’.

He sobers again, and glances to the clock. _5:28_. He furrows his brows, worry for his patron slipping back.

 _I do hope he’s alright -_ the sound of tires spinning on ice interrupts him. He claps his hands, _That must be Mr. Thranduil. He must have only been delayed by the weather, not one of casualties. What a relief!_

He is quick to jump back behind the counter, and when Thranduil makes it inside a few minutes later, he greets him with cheer and relief.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will probably be the only chapter in Bilbo's point of view. The station he is listening to is a real station on Pandora, and I would advise giving it a listen! Also, if you've never had cinnamon chip cookies you have not lived. I made them once and was informed that they taste like Christmas.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I updated chapter one, so go read that chapter before this one!**

_December 2nd, 2014, 4:07 PM_

Thranduil sits behind his desk, suit jacket thrown over one of the chairs on the other side of his desk, dress shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, and immersed in paperwork. Snow swirls heavily outside, illuminated with the light of the setting sun. He looks up from his work, fingers inkstained, and smiles as he hears the faint strains of Frank Sinatra from his father's old cassette player.  _ But don’t change a hair for me, not if you care for me… _ He hums lowly as he looks back down, stray hairs drifting down into his eyes.

The hours drift by, mostly unnoticed, for several hours. Thranduil finds himself absentmindedly dragging his hands through his hair, pulling more and more pieces from his now frazzled braid. He hums to the familiar and comforting songs that his father loved, drifting through his paperwork, occasionally standing to switch cassettes.  _ When I fall in love, it will be forever… _ His eyes mist in remembrance, before he clears his mind and continues working.

The dark outside his office window is complete now, the small lamp on his desk now longer enough. He closes his eyes, blinking away dryness slowly, and slips his hand through his hair own last time.

He stands and saunters to the en-suite bathroom, swaying and humming to the music, still playing softly. He pulls the tie from his hair, finger-combing it into a semblance of tidiness before effortlessly twisting it into a loose bun.

Arms still raised above his head, he stares contemplatively at his reflection. His under eyes were dark, the wrinkles at his mouth more pronounced in his tiredness. He stares for a moment longer, assessing himself; his day had been tedious, his court case spilling over longer than anticipated, and he’d been doing paperwork for hours. He was tired, and he knew that the trek to car would be bitterly cold.

Maybe he could go to Bag End before heading home? He could even get something for Legolas and Tauriel…

Mind made up, he nodded determinedly, flipping the bathroom light off and shutting the door. He steadily makes his way around the room, closing the blinds, turning off the cassette and shutting off the lamp. He lets himself out of the office, locking the door behind him.

Once he’s sitting in his Phantom Coupe, he begins to have second thoughts. Glancing in his rear view mirror, he glances at his disheveled bun and wind-and-cold flushed skin. He takes a deep breath, unnerved by his nerves. I’ve stared people more daunting than Bilbo Baggins straight in the face without flinching — Hell, I’ve gone head to head with those same people in court. What is it about this tiny barista that makes me want to faint dead away?

He shakes his head once more. I don’t look terrible. Bilbo probably won’t even notice! He comforts himself.

 

~

 

Thranduil pushes himself through the door to Bag End quickly, escaping the frigid air and entering the warm shop, savoring the comforting smell he associates with  _ Bilbo.  _ The shop is rather full, considering it’s nearly 8 at night. He waits in line, and smiles at the look of surprise that Bilbo gets when he sees him.

“Thranduil! You’re never here this late!”

Thranduil feels his cheeks flush in a way that he would blame on the cold, if asked. “I figured I deserved this, I’ve had a long day,” he feigns nonchalant, but his heart is pounding.

“I can tell,” Bilbo teases. “You’re not looking as impeccable as usual.” He sends a pointed look at Thranduils’ hair, his hands busy with the coffee.

Thranduil feels his cheeks getting hotter. “Yes, well…” his voice trails off, and his hand goes up to touch his bun.

Bilbo laughs, “Don’t look so self-conscious. You’re as beautiful as always.” 

“The usual?” Bilbo asks, looking less sure than usual.

“That, and two more.”

“Three? That’s a little much for one person, don’t you think?” Bilbo laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His hands begin to work on the first drink.

“Two are for my children. I figured if I was going to go after work I might as well get them something.”

Thranduil sees the brief flash of surprise, “Oh? Children?”

Thranduil smiles softly, fondly. The love he holds for his kids shines clearly on his face.“Yes, I have two. Ah! Before I forget, can you make one non-caffeinated? My son isn’t fond of coffee.”

“No wife?” Bilbo hedges, nodding his head to indicate his acceptance.

Thranduil flinches, barely perceptible. “Um, no. Not anymore.” He slides his card over the counter.

Bilbo slides the drinks over the counter in a drink carrier, brushing away Thranduils’ card with a wink. “These are on the house, as a thank you.”

“Thank you? For what?” Thranduil blinks in surprise.

“For letting me see your gorgeous self twice in one day. And for putting up with all my questions.”

Thranduil finds himself continually looking back as he makes his way to the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you see any mistakes, or even just clunky wording or excessive repetition, please tell me! I don't have a beta, so the only eyes editing these are mine.


End file.
